


Snow Song

by Redfire_Dragon



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Beauty - Freeform, Heartache, I have no idea, OP's Secretary, Optimus isn't paid enough to deal with this slag, Ratchet is the stubbornest medic EVER, cute is cute, is this fluff?, music is EVERYTHING, the twins are mischief gremlins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redfire_Dragon/pseuds/Redfire_Dragon
Summary: "Jazz held stock still, listening to the tiny crisp shifting of the tiny flakes of ice as they accumulated on the ground. Each of them, each of these 'snow flakes' a tiny speck of cold and music. The delicate crystal forms, grown freely high in the sky, chimed faintly to his extremely sensitive audials as they settled onto the others of their kind. It was music, the most beautiful thing he'd heard beyond sparksong itself."A rather silly story about misunderstandings and transformers





	1. Song

Jazz held stock still, listening to the tiny crisp shifting of the tiny flakes of ice as they accumulated on the ground. Each of them, each of these 'snow flakes' a tiny speck of cold and music. The delicate crystal forms, grown freely high in the sky, chimed faintly to his extremely sensitive audials as they settled onto the others of their kind. It was music, the most beautiful thing he'd heard beyond sparksong. The most perfectly tuned chimes, singing with tiny shiftings and collapses as minute piles would form and then be spread wide as gravity and tiny wisps of wind shuffled the tiny flakes. He could hardly vent, nearly strangling his systems in an effort to be silent, to be able to hear more of that song. Strange, chaotic, harmonic, enchanting, ethereal. A million notes singing down all around him, falling from the sky more lovely than any siren's call, so quiet, growing quieter as they stretched out in every direction. He had to hear that music, immerse himself in that beauty. Tiny notes, threads of melody and harmony shyly shifting in and out from among the chaos. Desperately he reached out for them, trying to catch the songs more hinted at than revealed, the heart of the music just beyond his reach.

He strained, the sensitivity of his sensors ratcheted as high as he could force them while at the same time doing all he could to silence the interfering of the sounds of his own systems. He had to hear it, had to capture it, that perfect melody, the ethereal harmony. It was beauty, it was perfection, it was the heart of music, dancing just beyond his reach. Music was his all, music was his everything, he must obtain this music, not as something that could be owned, no something so perfect and glorious as this could not be owned, but as a glimpse of the human's mythical unicorn, a thing to catch sight of only once and have it fill your entire function in wonder and worship. Didn't the music understand him? Could it not see the purity of his heart, his love all things beautiful or terrible, discordant or harmonic, of all things music whatever form or nature they might take?

But still that song skirted just out of reach, the musical chimes singing and flittering and going off in beautiful, perfect harmonies of chaos and arrhythmia that taunted him, beckoning him close while never allowing him to approach the goddess veiled in their midst. Please, he pleaded, begging with all his spark after this perfect music, falling from the sky all around him, nature and life and music all one perfect being teasingly just a breath beyond his reach. He was in an agony of longing, so desperate, his heart so pure, couldn't, just for a moment, they let him have just the briefest taste? His spark ached to touch, to hear for even a moment, the perfect melodies hidden behind the chaos.

Just a taste, he would be an acolyte to this music forever, spend his endless function in worship and reverence, just for a taste. His muse, his perfect goddess. He was hopelessly ensnared, seeking reaching for her dancing just beyond his reach.

 

 

 

"And you say he's just been standing out there this whole time?"

"Yep."

"Staring at the snow?"

"He says he's listening to it."

Optimus sighed putting his helm in his hands. What had gotten into his bots? "He hasn't had any of Beachcomber's 'special brew' has he?"

"Not that I know of... in fact I'm not so sure he has been refueling at all."

Optimus slumped, hands and helm coming down on the desk as his chair was pushed back and out by the collapse. "Just knock him over the head and take him to Ratchet alright? Let him sort it out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one gets it.


	2. Medical Examination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet is a good medic, a great medic really. But is he an understanding one?  
> No, no he is not.  
> He's also pretty darn stubborn.  
> Sorry Jazz.

"For cryin out lahoud." Jazz groaned hands coming up to cover his visor. "Ah was jus listening to the snow fall, is that REALLY sahch a crime?"

"Really." Ratchet said, more a statement than a question, voice so flat it almost hurt. "If you were having problems with your audials you should have just told me."

"Mah audial sensors are NOT glitchin'! Jess cause you can't hear it don't mean it ain't reel." Jazz protested.

"Uhuh." The medic grunted. "Move your hands or I'll be forced to restrain you."

"Aurgh. Ya'know Ah hate it when ya mess with my audials." Jazz complained but let his hands drift down to his sides. He knew few mechs, basically zero really, could hear like he could. His audials had always been overly sensitive, with a far greater range for both frequencies and built in volume adjusting inhibitors to protect the sensitive circuitry so it would not lose its edge when exposed to sounds that were too loud. And that had been _before_ he'd had them upgraded. Music, sound, it was his life, his everything, and then war had come and the beauty of music and the natural songs of Cybertron itself had been corrupted by darkness and bloodshed. Creativity and arts, excepting those of war, had been stifled and crushed. Before they'd awoken on earth Jazz hadn't heard a new song in several _millennia_. If they tried to rob him of these new musics his spark had been starved of he was going to start blowing things up again, _and not just Decepticon things either._

If Ratchet hadn't been the best there was Jazz would never have let him near his audial sensors, they were too delicate, too perfectly crafted and far far too important to him. Even now his defensive protocols were trying to activate as Ratchet very carefully removed the coverings from his left sensor horn. The medic hmmed again softly, though it sounded far louder than it should without the protective coverings in the way. Dag blast it, if Ratchet messed up his audials, if he did some awful medical thing to dial down the sensitivity so he couldn't hear the snow any more...

"Jazz hold still or I'll put you in stasis." Ratchet said, giving a small sharp rap to Jazz's helm.

"Ah told you, nuthin wrong with mah audial sensors." The second in command complained again, softer, as he forced himself to submit to the exam. There were not a lot of pressure or damage sensors in the complex array of his audials, but he could still feel things poking around and through every once in a while. It didn't hurt, Ratchet was too good at what he did to damage them, but it still felt awful. After a while Ratchet started making sounds of frustration and slowly Jazz smiled. "Can't find anything can you?" He said smugly.

"The problem is proving to be... elusive. Tell me, can you 'hear the snow' better from one side or is it equal on both?"

"Whallll it's equal on both acause its NOT A GLITCH. Ah Jess have better hearin than the resta you." Jazz said smugly, smirking a bit. Finally they would have to admit that he was right, and not crazy, and let him get back to his pursuit of his wintery goddess of music. He was already losing himself in the idea, in the anticipation when he suddenly realized something was wrong. He tried to figure out what it was, a frown coming to his face, when warnings exploded all over his HUD with accompanying error messages. Jazz let out a yelp. "What in the Allspark ahre you doing!" He wailed and tried to escape, but Ratchet had his helm clamped firmly in his hands and Jazz's thrashing was to no avail.

"Hold still, I'm almost done and if you touch, if you jerk anything around right now something _WILL_ be damaged." The medic snarled and Jazz relented, going still with a distressed whimper. It didn't hurt, not really, Ratchet knew what he was doing after all, and was dang good at it, but that didn't make it any less horrible. Abruptly half of the world went silent. "There." The medic said in a gentle but far too smug tone. "Now that wasn't too bad was it?"

"Ya coulda asked my permission first you scragging glitch." Jazz growled, feeling as the matrix of his left audial sensor was lifted away from his helm, dismissing all the error messages and warnings from his HUD.

The medic snorted. "Why bother? You wouldn't give permission, and then I'd do it anyway." He replied, far far too pleased with himself.

"Your smelting right Ah wouldn'ta, theres no call for you snatchin out mah audials to play your sicko medic games with. Thars nothing wrong with them."

"I will be the judge of that. Just give me a few orns and I'll have this completely checked over." The medic said, setting the array in a box and covering it so dust wouldn't settle in the delicate components. Ratchet came back over and began replacing the covers of the sensor horn so there wouldn't be a gaping hole in Jazz's helm.

"Ah hate you right naow."

"Mmhmm."

"Ah'm gonna poison yer energon."

"Really now."

"Yeh, and when you get through playin with mah audials Ah'm gonna make you eat yer words and confess to everyone that there really is nothing wrong with them."

"So that's how it's going to go down eh? Good to know." The medic said, voice still smug rimmed in amusement.

"Yeh." The last of the armor clicked in place and Jazz jerked his helm away from the medic testily. He hated being half deaf. HATED IT. He felt so lopsided and defenseless. He directed his worst scowl at Ratchet, which had little effect because this was _Ratchet_ and _no one_ could intimidate him. Scrag it all. "Two days. Two days, this time you are puttin it back in or Ah will blow up _all_ your precious medical supplies." The saboteur said flatly.

Ratchet snorted. "Deal." He said, clearly not believing that Jazz would follow through. And he was probably right. Jazz didn't go around destroying friends, family, allies, or their stuff. Usually.

Well at least he could still go listen to the snow even with only half of his audials. Cheered by this thought Jazz headed out of the medbay with a spring in his step right up until Ratchet called after him. "And by the way, Optimus Prime has ordered that, until this is worked out to his satisfaction, you are confined to base, specifically the _inside_ of base. Most specifically of all, away from the snow."

Even Ratchet learned a few new swearwords from the tirade that followed.


	3. Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something I ran through. Been thinking on the twins reaction to Jazz's woes

Jazz slumped down the hallway miserably. He hated being half deaf, _hated it_. His balance was off and nothing ever seemed to be where it should be with audio and visual no longer agreeing as they usually did. Yes, he could compensate, and yes, he technically could still hear better than any other Autobot on the planet, but it _felt_  wrong.

And they still wouldn't let him go out to the snow. Not that it was snowing anymore, and the early fall had been followed by slightly warmer weather, but he still wanted to be _out there_. The stupid sentries over the entrance would usher him back inside every time and none of his charm or tricks or even bribes or calling in favors was getting him out. He wasn't quite desperate enough to try to fight his way out or even sneak out. Yet. Since it wasn't snowing anyway. But the thought that there was still snow out there, waiting, a billion tiny notes of music laying scattered all across the ground. But he'd been told that the slightly warmer temperature was 'melting' the snow a little, something about how seasons sometimes got off to a false early start? Ugh. Complicated. Not enough snow music.

But seriously, it had been FOUR earth days now. Normally he would have been on Ratchet like white on rice, but he just felt... depressed. He wished he'd thought to make more of a recording of the snow music while it had lasted, and pestered Teletran-1 about weather reports, and considered sneaking off to northern climes to find snowfall. But even Prime seemed against him. Only the music comforted him.

Jazz queued up some of the memory files of the snowsong, listening avidly, letting his external sensors dull as he wandered the halls, trying to find his ever elusive muse. It wasn't the same as listening live, but it was better than nothing and his optics unfocused as his tired spark poured over the chaotic twinkling notes.

He really should have known better.

Something thudded into his back messily. His sensors registered cold and then there were several more splats. Jazz half jumped as his systems and sensors ratcheted up to full alert in a couple nanokliks, reviewing the data from the period just before the attack in moments as he spun and got beaned right in the face and bumper with what seemed like a whole hail of cold sloppy something. Only the fact that nothing about the situation registered as true danger allowed him to take the time to clear off his visor to get a look at what was going on before attacking his assailants.

The twins.

He should have known.

The two frontliners had peppered him with snowballs and were now staring at him with smug, evil little grins that, under usual circumstances, he would have labeled as simply 'deliciously mischievous'.

"We heard you were missing the snow" Sunstreaker started in a drawl.

"So we thought we'd bring you some." Sideswipe completed, grinning like the evil little gremlin he was.

Jazz took a moment to assess exactly how angry he was. On a scale of one to ten, it seemed to be 'Ratchet rage session'. "YOU FRAGGING GLITCHES! AH'M GONNA STRIP OFF YOUR PLATING AND USE IT TO WALLPAPER MAH FRELLING HABSUITE!" And he was already all the way to where they had been before he'd started, and they halfway down the hall, both groups quickly shifting from dashing to driving as Jazz continued to shriek and scream at them, chasing them all through the halls of the Ark with murder in his spark.

Needless to say, Optimus Prime was not amused.

Especially when Jazz himself nearly ran over some of their human guests.

Not amused _at all_.


	4. Escape the Brig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plus the Prime's secretary  
> can you tell who it is?

Three days in the brig followed by a week of double shifts on monitor duty. The correct amount of time as calculated by the Prime's secretary based on the severity of his 'crime' and his being confined to the Ark. All that time alone, frustrated, stir crazy, and, to top it all off, still half deaf. At least he could play his own music files. Snow song over and over. Until that stupid snitch of a secretary ratted on him and those files were forbidden by Prime 'for the sake of his sanity'. Please.

But there were other music files, a lot of them. And plans to make. He was going to get revenge on them _all_. Starting with that Audial stealing medic and ending with the Prime himself. Maybe. Prime was great, he just didn't understand. He didn't _understand_! None of them did! and he was sick of putting up with it. Maybe just the Prime's secretary then, not the Prime himself. But he _wanted_  his audial back.

Tnk Tnk. Metal knuckles knocking on metal. Jazz let out a bit of a growl and door to his cell opened. "Finally." He grumbled, rolling back onto his shoulders then throwing his weight forward, up and onto his feet on the bunk in a move the other Cybertronians hadn't thought any of their kind could pull off. But Jazz was the most flexible and best of all the Transformers at EVERYTHING.

The Prime's secretary's false wings twitched very slightly, but otherwise remained nonplussed, expression unamused, almost, but not quite, annoyed. "I would ask if you learned your lesson but that would be a waste of words." He droned.

"As much a waste as you 'xplainin' that to me?" Jazz mocked with a snort, dropping to the floor. Stupid drone was impossible to impress. No appreciation for anything.

But his words did get a reaction from the mech, causing him to actually frown slightly. "You will report for your first shift of monitor duty at 0800 hours. But first you have your appointment with medical. Ratchet will be re-installing your audial. After that-"

"Really? Great! Tell Prime thanks! Ah really needed that!" Jazz was brushing past the secretary into the main room of the brig.

"Wait, I have made a schedule for-"

"Double monitor duty for a week right? Ah know the drill. Lates." It was all he could do not to actually run.

"Don't run anyone over." Came the admonishing voice from behind him. "Hate to have to lock you up again for the same offense so soon."

Get his audial repaired, vengeance later. He might even forgive Ratchet for stealing it in the first place he was so happy. Maybe.


End file.
